


Wounds Heal Eventually

by UbiquitousInterests



Category: Tokyo Ghoul, Tokyo Ghoul: Re - Fandom
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, this is a few years after the end of tg: re, too embarrassed to write smut, urie deserves some fluff anyways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:46:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22569586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousInterests/pseuds/UbiquitousInterests
Summary: Unable to sleep, Kuki Urie shows up late at your apartment again. Frustrated with his inability to communicate, you find yourself studying the scars on his back and wishing you could help him heal. All wounds heal eventually, but will his if he never attempts to treat the wounds?I havent written anything in literal years so pls be kind to this very self indulgent (maybe slightly OOC) fic!!
Relationships: Urie Kuki/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 37





	1. Nighttime things

**Author's Note:**

> Tokyo ghoul fics in 2020? Say it isnt so! 
> 
> It took me forever to get into it, but now im trapped and dont want to get out. Urie doesnt get enough love and there is a lack of fluff with my fave boy SO HERE WE ARE! I hope he isnt too OOC, i tried to imagine how he’d react in a cute domestic relationship and it was rough...I have a second chapter drafted already but i have grad school interviews this week so im gonna try to post it tomorrow! idk how many ppl even read tokyo ghoul fics anymore but if you found this fic, i hope you liked it!!

Nights were sometimes difficult. Not all nights were bad, and only some were _really_ bad. Tonight has been somewhat difficult for him - he can't fall asleep again and you can tell he's getting upset.

Being a Peacekeeper isn't easy, you know this. He never talks about work, but knowing the job description and watching the news every morning can give you a simplified view of what he faces. It's also obvious when he comes and visits you. He comes to you exhausted and a heart full of pain, and although his physical body heals he still has wounds deep inside that you cannot see.

He's been coming to your apartment at night a lot more lately, complaining that he can't sleep and finding comfort in your bed and in your arms (and between your legs). Tonight is no different, except he still can't sleep. You walk towards the bed after a shower and a new pair of pajamas after he made a mess of your previous sleepwear. In the moonlight streaming through the window you can see him in bed as he fidgets and wiggles under the sheets.

_Uh-oh._

You step over the clothes he left in a pile on the ground, making a mental note to put it in your laundry in the morning. You lift your leg to crawl into bed but almost fall when he suddenly lets out an exasperated shout in the quiet room. He rolls onto his back, arms up and palms pressed against his eyes.

"I can't fucking sleep!" He says sharply. He huffs and groans while he drags his hands down his face. Staring at the dark ceiling he lets his arms drop but his hands are curled into tight fists.

Yeah, tonight is going to be a difficult one.

You reach down to grab a fist and ease yourself to sit onto the bed, pressing a kiss against his tense knuckles. His fist was still clenched tightly but the kiss slightly eased the pressure, giving you just enough to pry his fist open and weave your fingers between his and gripping tightly. You kiss his hand once more and watch him as he begs the ceiling for sleep. After a few moments, his grip loosens considerably, his eyes close, and he sighs through his nose deeply. His jaw is clamped shut and his lips are in a thin line. He's pissed. But he's trying to hide it for your sake.

Pressing a long kiss on his hand you inch closer to him and he shifts to accommodate you. Sitting next to his lying figure, you lean down and plant a kiss on his forehead. His eyes gently open and gaze up at you, neither fully able to read each other's expressions. His two beauty marks under his left eye add to his already charming face, but his eyes reflect how deeply exhausted he is.

You finally break the silence, "I'm sorry you're having such a hard time lately. If you ever want to t-"

"Stop." He cuts you off and pulls his hand away from your grip. "I don't want to talk about it I just want to fucking _sleep_."

Of course he's angry. He just wants to be left alone and rest. Bugging him won't make him feel any better and probably won't help him fall asleep. But you've been together for 2 years now and you _still_ can't get through to him.

"Kuki, why are you so stubborn?" You say with a sigh. He maintains eye contact and furrowed his brow, obviously not happy with how this night is going. You're not exactly thrilled either considering you hadn't expected to see him tonight, let alone play as his personal sleep goddess. You weren't opposed to helping him when he needs you, but you didn't like that he expected you to obey his commands without question or concern.

Sighing loudly and closing his eyes, he starts to move to get up. He rarely leaves you angry, but there have been the occasional argument and by this point you know that particular sigh means he is leaving.

Unwilling to give up this time, you're quick to move. You reach over to grab his shoulders and pull yourself quickly to straddle him. He works against you and grabs your waist to pull you off, but you link your fingers together behind his neck. He groans and reaches back to pry your fingers apart. Using your elbows against his bare chest and pressing your weight forward you bring him flat on his back with his hands gripping yours behind his neck. You look down at his face and are greeted with eyes filled with a unique mixture of surprise and anger. You moved without thinking and now you're not sure what to do with the angry bear pinned below you, but you know you're in too deep to back out now.

Scowling at you he huffs angrily. "What?! What do you want? What on Earth could you possibly want? Do you want to fight, do you want to make me angry? I don't want to fucking talk I need to sleep god damn it!"

Unable to maintain your composure you glare down at him. You understand. You really do. It isn't fair for partners to force each other to do anything they don't feel comfortable with, but at some point that stops being true when issues become too big to ignore. You don't want to fight anymore than he does, and all you want to do is sleep next to your tired (now angry) boyfriend.

"I just want to be here for you!" You shout, "That's all I want! To hold you or something...You come here every other night so hurt and I know I can't do anything, but at least let me hold you so I know you're safe! You're so stubborn, just let me hold you."

The moonlight highlighted his sharp features and revealed his less angry and mostly shocked face. He blinked a few times, not knowing what to say at your sudden confession.

You feel your face warming up at saying such a cheesy thing.

_Ahhhh crap, how embarrassing!!! Who even says that?! I'm an adult and here I am begging my boyfriend to have post-sex cuddles, how sad. I need to find the closest gravesite and bury myself there._

You pull your hands from behind his neck and climb off his lap. Sitting on your knees on the bed, you lower your eyes so you don't have to see his face and curse yourself silently for saying something so embarrassing.

He shifts and sits up, probably trying to see your hidden face. After what feels like an eternity he grabs your hand. "I'm sorry", he says, "I know you're doing your best and I don't make it easy." He slowly runs his thumb along your knuckles as his warm hand gently yet firmly holds yours. "I know you worry, and I'm lucky to have someone who worries about me. I just…", another sigh, "I just want to sleep."

You put your other hand on his and match his gaze. He's gotten better at apologizing and he knows how sensitive you can get at times, so he's learned how to say what he wants without hurting you...unless, of course, he's sleep deprived. It is rare he apologizes verbally, but it isn't unwelcomed.

"I know", you say quietly, "I want to sleep too. I won't ask you to talk, I promise. But…" you pause trying to find the words that can reach him. "Stay here and keep me warm, ok? If you leave now I won't be able to sleep because I'll be too cold. Just stay under the covers and keep me safe in bed." You squeeze his hand and wait for him to respond. He's sitting up with the moonlight from the window behind his head, so it's hard to see his face. His black silhouette outlined in white and running around his head and shoulders. Even though his job involves so much death and pain, at this moment he looks like an angel. Do only fairies grant wishes, or can angels make wishes come true too?

"Ok." he finally says, "I'll stay."

You probably should have at least tried to hide your surprise to your success in getting him to stay, but with so much tension in the air it was relieving that he’d choose to remain by your side tonight. You figure that questioning his decision would only encourage him to leave, so you quickly bring yourself back to Earth and forget about fairies and angels.

He tries to adjust to lay back down as you crawl to your side of the bed and join him under the sheets. He turns on his side so his back faces you, so you actually can't hold him like you'd wish. Although he didn’t agree to that part, he only agreed to stay. You can’t blame him though, not many people are keen on cuddling their partner after an argument as sensitive as that - even if it was brief.

Glancing at your clock you see it's nearing midnight and finally settle down. Resting your head against your pillow, you watch the back of his head waiting for sleep.

...But now you can't sleep either…

_Well, I guess that's my own fault for keeping Kuki awake…_

Your eyes dance around your dark room and you try to count sheep.

_One. Two. Three..._

...

...

_...Four hundred and ninety eight, four hundred and ninety nine, five hundred…_

_What the fuck, how am I still even awake?_

Exhausted from trying to entertain yourself for an eternity, you peak at the clock. 1:45am.

_Oh boy. Work will be fun tomorrow. Today? Whatever..._

Rolling over, your eyes settle on his back and you see his steady and rhythmic breathing, signalling that he finally drifted off. You close your eyes with a sigh of relief, it took some time but he is finally getting the sleep he needed. Now if only you could get yours.

You pull yourself from your bed to sit up and your eyes travel slowly along his figure. As he lay on his right side he gave a view of his broad and muscular back. Despite his regenerative abilities, you knew that it did not prevent scarring. The first time you noticed them you remember thinking, _that's strange, maybe the only scars he has are from bad wounds that have a hard time healing_. His back wasn't coated with scars, but there were more than a dozen scars of varying sizes spread sporadically. This was the first time you ever had a chance to actually see them for more than a moment, so you took your time studying his back.

The largest was no more than 20 cm on his lower back, your heart ached at the thought of the pain he endured from the wound. The remaining scars were unevenly distributed across his back; some covering his shoulder blades, one thin horizontal mark making a cross with his spine at the small of his back, one following his ribs that curved from the right and disappeared under him, and smaller scars of differing widths and lengths across his back.

There was a particularly thick scar below the connection between his back and his neck.

_Whoa, that one looks bad._

Wait. Have you felt that one before?

His collared work shirts covered his neck so it would not be visible while he was out or even when he wore the occasional t-shirt, but you wondered how that scar slipped past you. You can't remember feeling it when you held the back of his neck to pull him in a kiss, when you marked him on his neck as he liked, or when you would wrap your arms around him and run your fingers through his hair when you needed to hold him to remind yourself he was still here.

 _Oh_ , you thought, _it must be new_.

It must’ve hurt real bad. It is horizontal to his spine and curves upwards, like an evil crooked smile. Even with his regenerative abilities and strength, he surely must’ve been scared at that moment...If it was deep enough he would’ve…

Eyes welling up at the thought. God, it was so scary to think about what could have happened. You felt an overwhelming urge to kiss the new wound and you leaned close to his back, but you stopped short of pressing your lips against it. You could feel the warmth that surrounds his body along your face and held your breath as to not send a shiver down his spine, lest you disturb the rest he so desperately needed.

Pulling yourself back and sitting up once again, you covered your mouth and attempted to silence your sorrow as tears spilled down your cheeks. He fights so hard everyday, and he must face life threatening situations each time he works. You already knew this but this new scar was a reminder that at any moment of any day, you could lose him. One off day would mean the destruction with the life you’ve begun to build with him. Gone forever. The horrifying thought brought a burning sensation to your neck and a tight coil began to constrict around your throat as you stifled your cries and breaths. Your face hot and hands busy holding your mouth still, you slipped off the bed and exited the room.

Closing the door gently, you walked down the hall now gripping your face with two hands to restrain yourself from making noise until far from the room. His hearing was too good and you had an unfortunate track record of waking him up.

You found your way to the balcony and slowly closed the glass screen behind you. Pressing your weight against the chilled glass, you felt the nearly frozen winds battle with the heat of your tears and burning red face. Your throat scorched and body overheating, you welcomed the winter air that quickly worked to wrap around you and grip your limbs. With each breath producing a thick white cloud from your lips, you finally allowed yourself to cry. With each cry, white clouds billowed around you so large it looked like you just created fog around you.

You cried for the pain he endured but never spoke about. For the fear he must feel when he is wounded badly. For all the pain he has withstood and all the pain he has inflicted against those he may have not wanted to. You knew he felt scared, alone, isolated, and abandoned almost every day. All you can do is be there for him and he claimed that being in his life was enough. Though you know he's lying.

You know he has nightmares that he never talks about. You know he overthinks and imagines endless scenarios about you encountering hostile ghouls when he isn't around. You know that he still feels on edge around you. He flinches when you lightly touch him when he doesn't expect it or when you gently say his name during your quiet and intimate moments. At times he can be possessive and anxious when you leave for work or go out with friends, but he’s gotten better. You know at times he refuses to talk about his fears and be vulnerable because he still has a burning need to be strong, so talking leaves him open and - in his mind - makes him weak.

You cried on the balcony until your lips ached from the frosting air and your feet were screaming to flee the cool December night and retreat to your warm bed.

Exhausted, you opened the glass door and embraced the comforting warmth of your home. Closing the door and slowly walking to the hall bathroom, you hoped Kuki didn't wake. Upon turning on the light it was obvious you had been crying. Your hair messy and tangled, face red and blotchy, and puffy eyes still glassy and pink.

_If he didn't know I was crying before, he definitely would figure it out if he woke up and saw my face._

You washed your face with cold water to bring down the swelling and clear your face. He'll probably think you went to the bathroom to pee if you don't look like an absolute mess...or he'll somehow know you were crying your eyes out for the past 20 minutes. As much as you love how intelligent he is, it was also a curse when he can quickly figure out what you were up to. He even spoiled his own birthday gift because of his tendency to bring his old investigative skills home.

 _Ugh_ , you groaned internally, _I don't know if I'm too easy to read or if he's just that good, but whatever it is I hope he's too tired to be smart right now._

Exiting the bathroom looking better, you eased your way into the bedroom and silently prayed he was still asleep.

Looking at the bed you saw he was awake. Of course. Fuck.

He was propped up on his elbows and sleepily said something you couldn't hear. His bedhead made him look adorable, an incredibly rare moment where your devilishly handsome boyfriend can also be cute. Seeing him sleepy like that brought a smile to your lips.

_Thank god he wasn't fully awake._

His head followed you from the door to your side of the bed and mumbled something again.

"What?"

He silently reached across the bed and grabbed your night shirt and quickly pulled you closer to him, your legs lifting fast enough to crawl on the bed so you didn't trip. On your knees and leaning down so your face was leveled with his lowered position, your hands were wrapped around his fist holding your shirt. He mumbled something unintelligible again and lifted his opposite arm to wrap around you and guide you down the mattress, only then releasing his grip on your shirt. He pressed you against his body so that his bare chest was connected to yours and wrapped his arms around you. One hand pulled your head to rest in the crook of his neck and the other wrapped around your waist.

“Sorry Kuki...I don’t know what you’re saying, you’re mumbling.”

"You're so...stubborn..." he inhaled and exhaled deeply, "I just want to.....hold you", he imitated your embarrassing speech in a sleepy crackled voice that was deeper than usual. You had to stop yourself from encouraging him to speak more...he needed to sleep and he didn't know that his husky voice was enough to get you going. It was so rare he initiated non-sexual intimacy and you weren't about to miss an opportunity like this.

Still sleepy, he slowly continued. "That's all.....I just..." a yawn escaped him and you felt his chest press deeper against you and he squeezed you tighter, "...want to hold you."

Imitating his own hands, you slipped an arm under his and lifted a hand to stoke the back of his head to run your fingers through his hair. You held him like you had so many times before, but you cherished it more than ever before. Your smile widened as his heat began to thaw you out as you were still cold from the late night crying session. You weren't aware of how long you both stayed like that, embracing each other and refusing to let go. Before sleep finally took you, you ran your fingers over the new scar and imagined yourself planting a kiss upon it.

_I wonder if he'll ever tell me. Maybe if he knew how important it was to me he'll do it. If anything, I want to hear him tell me about how he got these scars._

When you woke up the next morning, he was already gone. His folded clothes from the day before placed on your nightstand with care. Although you weren’t awake to experience it, you know he must’ve folded them and kissed your forehead or cheek before leaving for work. The thought filled you with warmth and made your heart swell with love for him.

_Maybe if I say that hearing him talk is what I want for Christmas…_


	2. Light Touches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After giving him some time to decompress after your small fight, you decide to finally make a move to learn more about Urie. You aren't asking for much, you only want to place just the lightest touches on the wounds that can't seem to heal.

> \- “Come over for dinner tonight instead of coming late! Let's cook together ♡”
> 
> \- Read at 14:54

He was awful at texting and it still bugs you at times when he reads your texts but doesn’t respond. He prefers calling over text, he says it’s because it’s faster and he’d rather hear your voice (hearing him say that made you blush and merely thinking about it still makes your face heat up again). 

You sighed. It is hard to stay mad at him when he can be so sweet. It’s a curse really. He can make you swoon without even trying and without his own knowledge, but when he actually tries to impress you or be romantic he gets flustered and awkward. It is an endearing quality that you have grown to love because even though he catches the eye of any woman (and many men), romance is still so foreign to him. 

He’s an expert in combat, he is intelligent and quick, his strength is unmatched, he oozes confidence and can lead his colleagues with ease. But he is clueless when it comes to love and relationships. The first time he held your hand he was so nervous he grabbed you so fast and hard that it hurt, and your yelp caused him to wait a few weeks until he tried again. The first time you kissed him in public he had a panicked look on his face and poorly tried to cover his red face on the walk back home. Once you found a book titled “How to Date: A Guide for Inexperienced Men” on a desk open and facing down in the room he paints in. Flipping through the book you noticed a lot of it was geared towards sexual advice, but he had no trouble in that regard as you were certain his - um - performance in bed was the result of many years of practice with others. However, it was clear that you might be his first  _ real _ adult relationship. Maybe even the first committed relationship in general because he still reacts like a schoolboy at the age of 30 at your simple romantic advances. The chapter on gift giving revealed why one night he had come to your apartment unannounced with flowers, but did not explain why he immediately left after placing them in your hands and giving your forehead a quick peck. It seemed the book did not expand on what to do after giving the flowers. There was even a chapter on how to talk about feelings, but you can tell the pages were untouched...which brings you back to tonight.

You wanted to talk to him about the last time he slept over. It has been two weeks since then and he hasn’t visited your apartment since. He took you ice skating last weekend and you decorated the fake tree you made him put up in his apartment to prepare for Christmas, so you haven’t been avoiding each other.

You hear your phone buzz and you quickly read the text.

> \- “Come over to my place. My kitchen is better.”

He must be avoiding your apartment though. Does he think that you won’t ask just because you’re at his apartment? Oh, poor naive Kuki, his little book did not prepare him for this.

> \- “Okayyy ♡ I’ll be there soon!”

You look in your closet trying to figure out what to wear. The underwear might dictate how the night will go, so you have to choose wisely. Specifically, you wonder if you should wear your plain bra and panties, or if you should wear the lacy lingerie you know he loves…

Well, you’re certain that you’ll both argue with each other at some point tonight because you fully intend on asking him about his scars. And it wouldn’t hurt to have some relief after an argument - regardless of if he decides to open up with you or not. You pull the lacey garments out and pick an appropriate outfit to wear over it. Running to the bathroom in your room you give yourself a look over. You don’t want to walk into the place looking sexy - it would defeat the whole purpose of your visit - but you also want to look cute for him. You brush your hair out and put a little bit of blush on your cheeks, careful not to mess up the makeup you put on this morning before work. Grabbing a jacket and coat with a pair of mittens and a hat, you step out into the dark December night.

-

You walk up the steps to the apartment he shares with his colleagues but you don’t see many lights on.  _ He must’ve sent them away again _ .

He makes a point to limit the time you spend with them, he doesn’t like exposing you to his work and he doesn’t like being teased or embarrassed by his friends when you’re around. One time you got to his place early and saw him telling the group to “keep yourselves busy for a few hours” before slamming the door. He regretted it when he opened the door moments later to you standing in front of his friends in a crowd around the door. That night you all had dinner together and you innocently shared a bed in his room knowing that you couldn’t do anything  _ fun _ because of his roommates supernatural hearing. 

Seems like tonight it will be the two of you and you silently praise yourself for wearing the lingerie. Knocking and opening the door, you call out to him and step into the entryway. You hear him call from the kitchen with the sounds of something sizzling and a knife rhythmically hitting against a cutting board. Taking off your shoes and outerwear, you step into the hall and walk down to the kitchen. He is over a steaming pan sliding some chopped vegetables onto the dish and he glances over at you. 

“It’ll be ready soon. I figured you’d be hungry so I already started cooking.”

He was wearing his typical work button down, but his coat and tie were off leaving his shirt unbuttoned and opened just enough to reveal his collarbone. His gloves were gone and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. It’s just his regular look when he relaxes at home, but  _ god damn _ ...could he tone it down a bit? The man just screams sex appeal. You couldn't stop the smile that crept onto your mouth at the memories of the plentiful times you ruined a perfectly good work shirt of his when he lounges around in his button ups and slacks. Lucky for him, you have decided to spare this shirt from being torn off him and tossed aside...or at least delay it somewhat.

You walk over to the sink and wash your hands. “It’s ok, let me help with something though. I really do want to cook with you.”

“Alright, you can make the salad.”

Making dinner beside him was a rare treat. Typically one of you cooks for the other or you go out for food. There have only been a handful of times that you stand side-by-side in the kitchen cooking together. You know he is still adjusting to having you around him and even though you’ve been together for as long as you have, he sometimes still has trouble accommodating you in his life. Despite being the leader of his team, he didn’t exactly know how to be beside someone without them being ready to fight at any moment. He is still learning to interact with someone who doesn’t share a battlefield with him. 

You each focus on making the meal together in silence. He prefers silence over talking. There have been many times that you thought he would be an excellent mime if he wasn’t a Peacemaker. Sometimes you wished he spoke more, but you also have learned to cherish moments like this where you can enjoy each other’s presence. It took some time to get used to it because you were used to your old partners being as vocal as you are. But you realized about six months into your relationship with him that he prefers action over words. If he prefers a certain type of food, he’ll make a point of buying ingredients for you to cook. When he wants to have you near him, he’ll pull you close. He buys you what you need to show he cares and is listening to what you say. At times you question if he wants a simple domestic relationship like this, but by this point you know his behavior well enough that if he didn’t want you here like this, he wouldn’t have invited you over.

You set the table as he finished cooking and poured two glasses of wine. You tell him about your past few days at work and things you saw on the news. Stuff to fill the time as you both ate. After eating you both clean up. You both should have a system by this point but you somehow ended up tangled up with him when you were reaching to put the dried wine glasses in the cabinet and he tried to reach around you to place a plate in the drying rack behind you. A small smile crept onto his face and a laugh escaped your mouth at the situation. You really did love him.

As you dried the remaining dishes, he walked into the living room and you heard him turn on the nighttime news. You walk in behind the couch as you see images of rouge ghouls from helicopter shots, newscasters warning watchers to be wary of their surroundings - especially at night. You feel the stress radiating from his body sitting on the couch. He’s sitting forward almost hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees and eyes glued to the screen. His jaw clenched and tips sealed tight. You reach over him to grab the remote and turn the tv off. 

“How about we just relax tonight? They’ll call you in if they need you.”

He sits up and lifts his arms to rest along the top of the couch, lifting his head towards the ceiling as he closes his eyes in silent agreement. As you walk to the other side of the couch you run your index finger along his spread arms, over his shoulders, and finally to his opposite arm. You look at him and see he’s watching you now. Resting your hand against his, your fingers run over his hand back and forth gently. 

“What if I gave you a massage? Would that make you feel better?” You knew he would take that as a not-so-innocent request, but you had no intention of taking the situation there -  _ yet _ . 

He nods his head silently with a small smirk on his lips and closes his eyes once more. A long sigh escapes him as you slowly drag your hand up his arms again. You stop directly behind his back and place both hands on his shoulders and you begin to work slowly to apply pressure on his muscles and knead the tense tissue beneath your palms. Your hands move from the top of his shoulders and ease downward onto his back. You watch his face change from tense to relaxed as you continue your motions for a few minutes. You lean down so your mouth is near his ear and you slide your hands up his back, over his shoulders, and then down his front to rest your hands over his chest.

“Does this feel good?” You whisper.

Greeted by a small hum of approval, you drag your hands backwards and bring them back to the top of his shoulders. 

“I’m glad.” You say as you massage his muscles more firmly than before, and you’re delighted when a hedonic groan rings through the room.  _ Bingo _ .

Maintaining that pressure, you work his muscles more and gradually raise your hands up to the back of his neck. Your thumb presses against the scar you felt those few weeks ago and you stop. So lost in thought and focused on distracting him, you somehow forgot the reason why you came over in the first place. Curious about your sudden pause, he opens one eye and watches your face that hovers above his own. 

With one hand on his shoulder and the other slipping under his shirt to feel the scar directly once more. His other eye opens and he sees your expression turn from curiosity to sadness and concern. You say nothing, not wishing to break the silence and fearing he would leave your hands if you began to ask about it. You can feel your eyes getting glassy once again.

He is the one who breaks the silence, “You want to ask how I got it, don’t you?”

You shake your head side-to-side silently, closing your eyes to hold back any tears that may fall. You stay quiet knowing your voice would fail you and that even trying to talk right now would make you cry. Even though you did want to ask, you also knew that this moment wasn’t the best time.

“You’re a horrible liar. I think every ghoul I’ve met has been better than you, and none of them are even good at it.”

You sniff and turn your head away. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of reacting to his innocent tease. He sighs and sits up so that he’s not leaning back against the couch anymore. Your hands are still on him and you're pulled forward closer to the couch as he rose. 

“It happened about a month ago. I was slow to dodge and she sliced me good, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. Don’t worry about it. My head is still on, isn’t it?”

You open your eyes and he’s not looking at you anymore. His face is staring forward and he begins to move to place his elbows on his knees again. After a few beats, you finally feel your tears recede.

“What about the others?”, you ask with your voice cracking and betraying you.

“Huh? They’re all okay, of course. I would at least tell you if I had to go to a funeral.”

You silently curse yourself for asking such a vague question. You sniff, “No. I meant the other scars…”, you run the hand resting on his shoulder slowly down his back, “...How did you get these?”

Now he turns his head back and gives you a questioning look. “You want me to tell you how I got every single scar?”

“I mean...Only if you want to…”

He sighs and leans back. “Listen, I fight everyday and sometimes multiple times a day. I’ve been a Peacekeeper for three years and I was an investigator for nearly eight years. I would tell you if I could remember each of them. But I can’t. There are some I remember, but most of them I can’t.”

You match his gaze and try to find a response. This is probably the most he’s talked about his work the entire time you’ve known him. It isn’t even a lot but it feels like a flood of information because you’ve been so deprived. 

“Then tell me about the ones you remember.” You say resolutely. 

He shifts his body so he can turn a bit and see your face more clearly. His eyes are hard but his face is expressionless. He is silent, as if he is weighing his options and trying to pick between opening up slightly, or shutting the doors like he usually does. 

“Well,” he says with a sigh, “...fine. But if you start crying I’ll stop. I hate seeing you cry so don’t make me see it.”

Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the stress of work, maybe the news or your sad eyes, who knows what convinced him. You're just shocked you even could convince him.

He starts to unbutton his shirt and shrugs it off, letting it fall behind him and he works to take off his undershirt. You can’t help yourself but admire his strong frame and muscles. He knows this too and you can tell he’s holding back a smile at how easily you can be distracted by him. You walk around the couch and sit down facing him. His back is exposed to you again and you reach to touch his bare skin with your hands. 

“Which ones do you remember back here?”

He makes a small “hmm” sound as he mulls through his thoughts. Bringing his hand to his back, he points to a faint one near low along his spine.

“This one was when the CCG was about to fall. I was fighting and glass got stuck in me and it almost was healed over. I got it removed but it really sucked.” He pointed to one that looked circular near the center of his spine, “This one was actually from Mutsuki...it’s a long story but he got me square in the stomach, this is the only scar though there isn’t one on my stomach.”

He continued like this for some time. Pointing at scars or guiding your hand to touch certain ones for him, pausing to remember how he got them, giving vague stories with just enough detail to satisfy you without hurting himself with the memories. Eventually he couldn’t name a lot of them and turned to face you and repeat the process with his chest and stomach, but there weren’t many. He then focused his attention on this right then his left arm. Interestingly, his scars were more likely to show on his backside and arms than his front. When he ran out of stories you leaned into him and wrapped your arms around his back gliding your fingers across some of the scars. You held each other on the couch sitting in peace. The tension gone from the air and replaced with care and a rare softness. 

From over his shoulder you could see the tree you both decorated in the corner lit up. You could tell there were new ornaments that his colleagues must have added. The thought made you smile and tighten your hold on him. You felt his hand reach up to hold the back of your head as he guided your head so he could gently kiss your forehead. The sweet act making you melt and your heart squeeze.

“Satisfied?” he asks.

“For now.” you tease. A small laugh springs from his chest and he caresses your hair. “Thank you...I never want to make you uncomfortable or to make you talk about painful things...but I hate not knowing anything about you when I love you so much.” You pull back to look him directly in the eyes. “Even if it scares me or makes me worry, I want to know whatever you’re willing to tell me. Wouldn’t you want the same from me?”

He stops petting your hair and you wait for his response. You never expressed how unfair it felt that he always wanted to know every detail about any time you were in danger or he  _ thought _ you were in danger, but you could never ask about his day at work. He’s a smart man, surely he must’ve known you’d feel this way.

“Yes” he says finally, “If you held something like anything I told you a secret from me…” he pulls you closer and squeezes you somewhat too tightly, “I’d be so…” he trails off, probably unable to describe the feeling. You wait for him to come up with the words. Maybe he should’ve read that chapter and he might have been able to express himself better. “It would hurt more than the scar on my neck.”

You bury your face into the crook of his neck and breathe him in, he smells like dinner and the cologne you like. The thought of him going out of his way to put on your favorite scent of his was a reminder of his discrete method of showing his love. The little things all add up. You plant a kiss on his jawline and look up at him. “Now you know how I feel. Again, I won’t force you to tell me anything you don’t want to, but now you’re aware of how much it pains me to see you hurting and not telling me. I don’t need all the details, but I just want to be here for you.”

“I’ll try.” He closes his eyes and leans his head back. You watch his face and follow the shape of his features. His two beauty marks under his eyes that you love so much. You could admire his face all day if you could. You loved his high cheekbones, his sweet lips, and his sharp jawline. “I won’t make any promises, but I will at least try.”

You wanted to kiss those lips but he still had a slightly too tight hold around your arms keeping your body still. You settle for a quick kiss on his neck. “Thank you. That’s all I ask for now.” You give one more kiss, this one slightly longer than the last. And yet another. And again. And an open mouthed kiss that caused him to flinch and loosen his grip. Moving quickly at his momentary break in his defenses, you’re on him and bringing your mouth to his. You felt your face warming as he returned the kiss with greater passion. 

“You know,” he pants between kisses.

“I don’t think it’s entirely fair…”, he dives in for a kiss to your neck this time, tangling his fingers into your hair.

“That I’m the only one...”, he gives your neck a small bite causing you to lull your head back and accept his affections to your neck, “with my shirt off…”

_ Thank god I wore the lacey bra _ , you thought to yourself,  _ he’s going to love it. _

You wrapped your legs around him and held his face in your hands, pulling him in for a kiss. Only to stop when you heard the front door open and someone shout, “Uuuurieeee!! We’re hooome!”

  
_ Or not _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I satisfied my Urie fluff needs with this fic, it was eating away at me for weeks! I hope everyone who found this and read it all the way through enjoyed it! I liked writing it and tbh I'm kind of motivated to take up creative writing again. Maybe I'll post more fics on this account, who knows! If I cant get Urie out of my head I might make more, but I (just like Urie) wont make any promises. Thanks for reading!


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